Case File 88726573-K
CODE WORD: гром(Thunder)
Horst lived to fly.
He never felt as alive on the ground as he did in the cockpit of his MiG-17 rocketing through the sky. It wasn't so much the speed, or even the ability to be more or less totally in control--- a rarity in a country where, despite a degree of liberalization in the armed forces, the Stasi still watched the people closely for any sign of dissent. No, he simply felt at home in the air.
"Red Two, Red Two, this is Red Base, Gold Flight is at your three. ETA to target, over?"
"Red Base, Red Two. ETA three minutes out, over."
"Red Two, Red Two, copy that. Be advised; Black Flight is currently loading up for second strike capabilities, over"
"Red Base, Red Two, copy that. Out."
Horst switched his radio over to channel 2 as he saw a second MiG-17 appear off his wingtip. He was honestly a bit disconcerted at how much he liked Nikolai Rykov; after all the stories his parents had whispered about how the Russians had acted on their way West he'd half expected the man to come with horns and a tail. The reality that Rykov was just another man who loved flying---and who was damn good at it at that--- was rather simpler than he'd expected.
"Gold Two, this is Red Two, over"
"Red Two, this is Gold Two. All my boys are in position over. It's good to see you again Horst....even if you can't fly your way out of a paper bag, over".
"Gold Two, Red Two, maybe you should lay off the vodka before you get in the cockpit, over."
"Red Two, Gold Two, what fun would that be, over?"
Horst chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Copy that Gold Two. Out". Switching back to the EGAF standard network he linked up with the rest of Red Flight, who had launched several minutes after him and were only now appearing on the edges of his radar scope. "Red Flight, Red Two, is everyone good, over?"
"Red Three, good, over"
"Red Four, good, over"
"Red Five, good, over"
"So boss, what are we hitting today, over" came the call from Red Three--- Markus, a hulking brute of a man asked. Horst was always surprised he was small enough to actually fit in the cockpit.
"We are cleaning up another one of Hitler's messes boys. Apparently he built a massive platform in the middle of our territorial waters and it's just sat there collecting dust ever since. The Russians want to bring in part of their merchant fleet to Straslund to pick a shipment up and its apparently a "navigational hazard". They tried sending in a couple of Volksmarine destroyers to take it out but you know sailors. Couldn't hit the broadside of a barn, so now it's our turn. Hang on to your bootstraps gentlemen, ETA to target one minute, out".
With that, Horst switched on his targeting computer, switched off the safety to his cannon, and began readying his missiles. Red Base had been extremely specific on this---- if the missiles didn't destroy the platform, they were to circle around and strafe it with their cannon until was nothing more than rubble. He didn't quite understand why that required eight MiGs, but hey, whatever——what the fuck!
Horst was never sure afterwards whether it was skill or just plain luck that saved him. His sudden dive got him out of the way of—-whatever it was—- that sizzled past him, but suddenly the airwaves were filled with the sound of panic.
"What the FUCK!"
"Did you see that! Did you see that!"
"Gold Four is gone! Shit!"
"Where's that shit coming from!"
"Oh fuck oh fuck ahhhhhhn——"
"Dietrich's spinning out! He just hit the water! No chute!"
"All pilots launch! Now!" Horst barked, punching the launch command and watching his missiles scream away. He didn't understand how, but they were clearly under attack. Worrying about how and by whom could come later. They needed to hit the platform and get the fuck out of here.
"Platform's coming up boss! Missiles are away!" Markus yelled, his MiG somewhere above Horst's. Horst glanced at the radar scope and was stunned at what he saw. Where there had been eight dots, now only four remained. Sure enough, the platform was looming up in his gunsights, Markus smiled grimly as he saw the first missiles slam into it—- and almost simultaneously another blast launch out and incinerate Markus's MiG, so fast he barely had time to blink.
"Markus! Fuck!" Horst yelled. "Die fuckers, die!" He screamed, hammering the cannon button as he did so. Sparks flew across the platform as he screamed overhead. He caught a flash of some bizarre symbol inscribed across the entire top of the platform out of the corner of his eye, and then it was gone as the platform erupted in a massive gout of fire.
As Horst and the rest of Gold Flight circled around and prepared to rake the collapsed platform with cannon fire no one saw a single insect like creature leap from the flames and vanish into the mist.
